Next Generation
by Solo By Choice
Summary: Behold! A new and better summary. This is my AU tale of the events that transpired after RotJ. Mostly a Wedge story, but the others and awsome OCs get plently of floor time.
1. Not Sick

A/N: Amazing! This is my first semi-serious story. Hope you like it. By the way, parts are AU (especially Wedge's history), parts are not. I hate some of the EU stuff (like the Yuzzon Vong—which I can't spell), though most of it is okay.

Disclaimer: Isn't. Wish it were.

All OCs are mine -- no kidding. It's all next generation.

For those who are confused: turbo lifts are elevators, caf is coffee and the refresher is the bathroom.

Chapter 1: Not Sick

There was only one word to describe how Wedge Antilles felt as he lay in bed that morning. Most unfortunately, his insistence to never swear prevented him from using it.

Being late fall on Corescant, it was quite cool, but even thought the window to his apartment was wide open, Wedge felt hot.

And sweaty.

And tired.

But he wasn't sick. Wedge doesn't get sick.

It took him a full ten minutes to drag himself out of bed and into the refresher. He took a hot shower, as was his habit, then wrapped a towel around his waist and proceeded to brush his hair.

Maybe the hot shower hadn't been a good idea because he suddenly felt so dizzy that he had to sit right down on the floor for a minute. Once he had recovered enough to do so, he got up and looked at himself in the mirror.

His face was pale (or paler than usual; he had light skin) and contrasted sharply with his black hair, thick eyebrows, and dark green eyes.

And beard stubble.

Shaving was an unusually monumentous task that morning; it was almost as hard as it had been the first time he'd done it when he was fourteen, and had no idea what he was doing, and was living with his mother who obviously didn't have any idea either, and was too embarrassed to com his dad on Alderaan to ask.

He fared a bit better this time than he had then though: he only cut himself on the jaw and not too badly. Even in Star Wars, Band-aids fix everything that duct tape can't.

But of course he wasn't sick.

He got dressed the best he could, though his shoes kept ending up on the wrong feet, his shirt got caught in his fly, and he almost straggled himself putting his tie on.

His usual quick mug of caf didn't make him feel any better.

Which was strange because caf can fix anything that Band-aids and duct tape can't.

But he wasn't sick.

Someone was standing in the turbo lift when the door dinged open for Wedge. He was a taller man, thin, with short, fine, blond hair and blue eyes. "Hey, Tycho," said Wedge listlessly, which Tycho seemed to notice.

"Hey, Wedge, you look a little pale…you feeling OK? The flu's going around and…"

"I'm fine, Ty, honestly." Wedge hasted to assure him. When he continued to look worried, Wedge joked, "Alderaanians: they love to worry."

"Corellians: too thick headed to notice a problem 'til it bites them in the butt," Tycho countered.

"Wow, harsh," chuckled Wedge. "Not enough caf this morning?"

"You know I don't drink the stuff."

"Winter annoying you?"

"Hmph," Tycho hmph-ed, "Like you know anything about women and being married….No it's just that, well, I don't think some of the stuff you do is good for your health."

"What," asked Wedge, "like playing Sabacc?"

"Well, we know that's not good for your wallet, but what I mean is, like, not enough sleep. You should see yourself on some of those missions: you keep yourself awake by drinking caf and looking at Iella."

"What? No I don't!"

"Well, I'm not being entirely serious, I'm not Hobbie, I don't think you're going to die tomorrow, but with your normal sleep pattern (or lack of one) I'd say you're due for a week in bed with the flu sometime soon."

"Whatever," said Wedge, not listening.

Because he wasn't sick.

The turbo lift doors dinged opened and Tycho got out. "See you Wedge!" he called after him.

Down one floor and the doors opened again. A portly, bald man entered the turbo lift. Wedge got out as soon as he saw him.

Even three minutes in a confined space with General Salm is too much, as far as Wedge was concerned.

The stairs were at the other end of the hall; he would take them.

The air in the stairs area was muggy, warm, and stale.

The stairs were steep.

High.

Metal.

Then everything went black.

A/N: Heh heh, aren't I evil? I love myself. Please review if the muse strikes you, or whatever.

A/N 2: Someone tell me: is it "tie-co' or 'tie-cho'? Is it 'Sell-chew' or 'Kell-chew' or something else? Ah!


	2. A Little Surprise

A/N: I'm back! Here we go with the second chapter, in which there are more characters than just Wedge and Tycho, I promise!

Disclaimer: If I did, I wouldn't be writing on now would I?

Can't wait 'til November 1st! _Star Wars Episode III: The Revenge of the Sith_ is coming out on VHS and DVD!

Emdee is a medical droid, and I'm attempting (key word) to use military time.

Chapter 2: A Little Surprise

The first thing Wedge registered when he opened his eyes was that he was in a bed in the apartment building's hospital wing.

Excellent.

He wondered how this had happened.

He attempted to lift his head off the pillow, but it throbbed so he had to lie down again. "It's a mild concussion," said a voice from his right side, "I've had those, and I wouldn't recommend getting up."

"Leia!" said Wedge, surprised enough to look at her, even though it hurt his head. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you to wake up," she answered, looking wryly amused. "Emdee said to tell him when you're awake, but I suppose that can wait a few minutes: I haven't seen you in ages! How've you been?"

"Oh, so-so, you know," he returned, wondering when the last time they'd talked had been. He remembered the wedding…then Han and Leia had gone on a honeymoon to Corellia, and everyone had been so busy when they'd gotten back….

"How was the honeymoon?"

"Wow, we really haven't talked in forever, have we?" laughed Leia. "That was eight months ago…well, it was a disaster. Han got into a bar fight—he wasn't drinking, but the other guy was—and we spent the rest of those two weeks on the run from some amateur bounty hunter."

Wedge raised his eyebrows. "Not the best honeymoon, but who could expect less from you and Han?"

She laughed again. Wedge noticed on closer inspection that she looked a bit stressed, tired maybe. Was she sick? Then again, she was a politician and that had to be taxing.

"So, what happened to me?" Wedge queried.

"Well," she answered with a twinkle of amusement in her brown eyes, "it seems you fell down the stairs."

"That's it? No stormtroopers? No TIE-fighters? No nothing?" he joked.

"Nope. Emdee says you have a slight concussion, that flu that's been going around (though that's not from the fall), and your right leg is broken in three different places."

"Ouch." Wedge made a face. He could see now that his leg was bandaged from the ankle to half way up his thigh, with a brace to hold it straight. A/N: For the brace, think Tiny Tim or Forrest Gump.

"Well," said Leia, "I'd better get Emdee—"

"Wait," Wedge cut her off, "I'm just wondering: why did you have to watch me? Aren't you busy?"

"No, I've been ill for the last week and a half. I think it's the flu, and I've been feeling so crummy these last few mornings that I've called in sick. Luke keeps telling me to get checked over," she made a face at her twin's concern, "but I'm honestly fine. It gets better throughout the day."

"Well, I don't feel any better…which reminds me: what time is it?"

"About 1700 hours 5:00 pm," Leia answered him, "You've been out almost all day. Now, let me get Emdee. I'm sure he'll let you go home."

About half an hour later, Wedge was ready to leave. He had been given crutches and shown how to use them. Emdee had explained what he could and could not do until the concussion went away. He wore his regular shoe on his left foot, but because his right foot was slightly swollen, he wore a sandal with a sock, his pants leg rolled up.

As he and Leia entered the waiting room, through which they would proceed to the hall way, a young man with dishwater blond hair walked in. He grinned when he saw them.

"Hey, Wedge! I heard you fell down the stairs!" Luke laughed as the two friends greeted each other with slaps on the back.

"Good to see you, too," chuckled Wedge. "Haven't seen you since the wedding!"

"Yeah, I've been really busy, reopening the Jedi Temple and rebuilding the Order and all…And Leia's here too!"

"Yes, and I'm fine, I don't need Emdee to check me over!" said Leia, correctly reading Luke's mind.

"Leia, cummon. I know you think it's the flu, but it could be anything! Seriously, it'll take Emdee ten minutes to check you over, and he can give you medicine, and you'll be back at work in no time," Luke begged her.

"Fine," said Leia, rolling her eyes, "but if it's only the flu, you have to buy me a caf every morning all week."

"Alright, alright, easy," said Luke, "And if I'm right, well, I know what I want from you. It's no biggy; you'd probably do it anyway, but…."

"And precisely what is it you want from me?" Leia asked with her eyebrows raised, suddenly reminding Wedge very much of how she sounded back in the chilly Echo Base on Hoth whenever Han tried to talk to her.

"I can't tell you," Luke professed. "I don't want to give it away until I'm sure I'm right."

"Whatever," said Leia. Turning to Wedge she added, "You know, I always wanted a brother. When I was little, I liked to wrestle, and Winter would never wrestle with me, so I wished I had a brother. Now that I have one, however…." She smiled at Luke with exasperation and headed into the check up room.

"That wasn't really a fair bet, Luke," Wedge informed his friend as soon as the door had closed.

"Why?" The Jedi Master looked genuinely curious.

"Well," Wedge answered, "I mean, I'm Corellian so I don't care about odds, but I do know it's more likely for Leia to not have the flu because the flu's one thing, but everything else is a lot more. I probably botched explaining that," he added.

"No, I understand," said Luke. "You think I'm more likely to win, and I'll give you that. See, it's not a fair bet because I think I've sensed what's wrong with her. Well, not wrong with her, per say, but what's up."

"What, with your Jedi powers?" asked Wedge. He didn't understand the Force any more than your average Tom, Dick, or Harry.

But he tried.

Occasionally.

"So you can tell what's wrong with her? Just like that? Huh, you should be a doctor!"

"Well, no," Luke replied. "I can use the Force to sense, well, the Force. Everyone, even non-Jedi like you or Han, has Force presence, and I can tune in to that. That's why you can't sneak up on me without my knowing who you are. One morning about a month or so ago, I happened to meet Leia and noticed something odd: her Force presence was sure there, but…well, it's hard to explain. It was like she had two Force presences, like there was a weaker one hiding under her bright Force presence. It was odd."

"So. She had two Force presences? She was two people?" Wedge asked, confused.

"Yeah," said Luke, "so, I thought maybe—"

He was cut off by Leia coming out of the examining room and closing the door behind her. The twins looked at each other, and Leia smiled slightly. They were silent for a few moments, then Luke said, grinning broadly, "So I was right! That's, well, that's pretty awesome!"

The twins hugged.

Wedge piped up, even more confused, "What's awesome?"

Leia turned to him, grinning as widely as her brother. "Luke was right; it's not the flu. I'm pregnant."

"Uh, wow."

Still, Wedge thought as he got into bed half an hour later, it shouldn't have been that much of a surprise. Everyone was getting older, getting married; it was only a matter of time before someone started a family.

Wedge wondered how Han would react, and laughed to himself as he imagined the look on the older man's face when he found out. Wedge had wanted to stay, but Luke and Leia had insisted he go home and rest.

He needed to sleep off this concussion.

Which was ok, he guessed, because he wasn't really part of the family.

_That's me, all alone. The one and only Antilles in the galaxy. _

As he thought this, somewhere, far away on a distant planet where the sun sets red-gold on a clear evening, the Force flowed strong within a dark haired woman as she ignited a blue-green lightsaber before her.

And, on an even more distant planet, in this galaxy that is so vast you'd be ancient dust before you'd even walked a hundredth of the distance, a child-sized, blue skinned hand hovered over a control panel covered with fascinating levers and switches, and then pressed, with innocent deliberation, a red button, beginning a set of chain reactions that would, in approximately three years, change Wedge Antilles' life forever.

A/N: So, how is it? I like it, but I'm biased, being the author. Did I use military time ok? Luke and Leia can communicate through the Force because she's training to be a Jedi. And how 'bout that cliffhanger ending? Probably won't be explained for another couple chapters. You will find out sooner what Luke wants for being winning the bet.

Note: being fifteen, I know nothing about being pregnant. Duh. So forgive any mistakes.

Note 2: What movie is this from (because I have no idea): "Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon----- and for the rest of your life."?

MTFBWYA  **M**ay **t**he **F**orce **b**e **w**ith **y**ou **a**lways.


	3. Lots of Caf

A/N: Here we go again. Enjoy the ride!

Disclaimer: Do you **really** think I'm George Lucas? I'm not even from California, and I've never directed any movies. All I've done is spoken seven lines of dialogue in a Cockney accent for the middle school musical two years ago.

I did **not** know arsenic was an element! Heh heh. I'm amused.

_Arsenic and Old Lace_. Good movie.

Chapter 3: Lots of caf

The next morning Wedge was feeling less sick, so he somehow managed to get downstairs for breakfast in the general mess hall that all Republic officers shared.

He had come down with every intention of talking to Tycho, but as the man wasn't there, he headed over to sit with Han instead.

As usual, Han looked neat: his clothes were clean, and his hair was brushed. But Wedge thought his fellow Corellian looked a little tired as he swirled his caf around.

Han looked up when Wedge sat down across from him.

"Morning."

"Leia here?" Wedge asked.

"In bed," Han answered. "Going for the hobo look?"

"Naw, I'm just lazy this morning. So, did she tell you?"

"Yeah," said Han, shaking his head. "I dunno what I'm going to do."

"Are you happy? Luke and Leia sure were." Wedge stirred some milk into his caf.

"Happy? I don't know. I'll be as happy as you like soon as I've gotten over the shock. I just don't know what I'm going to do," he repeated.

"You could be happy," Wedge suggested. "Cross the other bridges when you come to them, like people say."

"No, no, no," Han corrected him with exasperation, "I need help here: I don't suppose you have any better advice than that?"

"Advice. About what?"

Han ran a hand through his slightly wavy brown hair. "Being a father. I don't know **how**, ok? I've always assumed my parents were dead, though I've got no proof, but the point remains: I don't have anyone to ask. I know nothing."

"Well, me, too. Or neither. But you've done ok this far. You'll survive, I guess."

"**That's** reassuring."

Han was usually so self confidant that Wedge was surprised at how unsure he seemed to be about all of this.

Though he supposed he wouldn't act any different.

It wasn't until two months later that he saw his friends again; a long, boring mission to Ryloth followed by a shorter one to Commenor prevented him from being at home on Corescant much.

His cast was finally off, and he was sitting around his apartment reading the news when the doorbell rang. "Come in!" he called. The door opened and in came a woman with straight brown hair that was dyed black in front, brown eyes, and a New Republic Intelligence Agent ID on her collar. Wedge grinned when he saw her.

"Iella! Way too long time no see!"

She grinned back just as widely which made her freckly nose crinkle. He loved it when she grinned.

"I came to ask if you'd like to have dinner with me. Han and Leia are coming too."

"Where?" Wedge asked pretending to care.

"Restaurant and bar place down the street. Nice place. Not seedy or anything. Good enough for you?" she teased.

"Of course I'm coming!" he answered, laughing. "Even if it was the seediest joint in Mos Eisley, I'd come."

"That's that, then. If you hurry, we can save them a table."

He hurried.

Iella had been right; the place was nice. They got a table for four, then sat down to wait for Han and Leia.

"So," said Wedge, "how's things at Republic Intel?"

"Not that interesting. Too bad we aren't working with Rogue Squadron anymore; that was always fun."

"Ho, yeah," Wedge agreed, nodding, "I kinda miss that. It's like they were the good old days."

"Totally. Chasing those Imps who just refused to die around the galaxy was good."

"Han! Leia! You're here!" Wedge exclaimed, jumping up to greet them.

"Hey, Wedge! Cast off, I see?" said Han, shaking his hand vigorously.

"Thank the Force!" Wedge agreed. "Do you know how hard it is to pilot an X-wing with a broken leg?"

Han thought seriously as they sat down and finally said, "No."

The Twi-lek waitress came up, took their drink orders (three cafs and a water), and informed them that Gork was in the soup of the day.

"Hey," said Wedge as she left, "did anyone hear the one about the man who walks into a tapcaf with a Gork under his arm…"

"YES!" the other three cried simultaneously.

"Ok," continued Wedge, undaunted, "did you hear the one about the Wampa and the Jedi?"

"Yes," said Han without thinking.

"Actually, no," he amended five seconds later.

"Well, neither have I," Wedge admitted, "but ask Luke, and I'm sure he'll tell you!"

"Ha ha," said Leia as their drinks were set down on the table, but she laughed all the same.

Wedge took a sip of his caf, then spluttered, "Ah! Hot!"

Iella picked up the menu and deliberately read, "'Caf: on a cold day, this **hot** beverage…'"

"Yeah, yeah," groused Wedge as he wiped the front of his shirt and the others cracked up.

The waitress took their orders. Once she left, there was a lull in the conversation.

Wedge sipped his caf.

Han made a tower out of half-n-half things. (1)

"So," said Iella, "everything's been so crazy lately, and I've been so busy I never got a chance to tell you guys 'congratulations.'"

"Thanks," Leia answered, grinning.

Han's tower fell over.

"Have you decided what you're going to name it yet?" Iella asked.

"No," said Leia, shaking her head, "except Luke asked for it to be 'Ben' or 'Anakin' if it's a boy, which is ok by me."

"I'm still trying to figure out why Luke gets a say in the matter," Han groused.

"Because I had a bet with him, but never mind. And also because there is no way any kid of mine is being named after some Wookiee or smuggler," Leia explained.

"And if it's a girl?" Iella asked.

"What about 'Bria?'" Han suggested.

"No Wookiees, smugglers, **or** old girlfriends," said Leia as the Twi-lek waitress gave them their food along with a funny look, obviously wondering about the conversation.

"And if I said she was my mother?" Han asked as he turned to his food. (2)

"I would tell you you were lying because you said you don't know your mother's name."

"And if I said I only found out yesterday?"

"I would ask how."

"And…."

At this point Wedge stopped listening to their stupid conversation.

He and Iella had just gotten into a rather deep philosophical debate (3) and she was accusing him of circular reasoning when a couple friends happened by.

More specifically Gavin Darklighter and Asyr Sei'lar, both pilots in Rogue Squadron.

"Fancy seeing you here!" exclaimed Wedge after greeting them.

"Oh, we're celebrating!" said Asyr, violet eyes sparkling in her black furred Bothan face.

"Borrsk Fey'lya has finally agreed to us adopting a Bothan orphan!" Gavin elaborated happily. "Maybe he's decided to stop being such a jerk."

"I doubt it," said Wedge, "but at least he's stopped trying to rule your lives."

"Definitely a good thing," purred Asyr, "but," she added with a snarl, "if he ever tries to interfere again, he'll have me to deal with!"

Dinner passed with more light conversation, and soon it was time for everyone to get back to their respective apartments.

As Wedge entered his dark and empty apartment later that evening, he realized that even with so many friends, he'd never felt more alone in his life.

A/N: OC characters coming soon, I promise! Hopefully next chapter….

Footnotes: (1) Yes, they have these in Star Wars. Why? Because I say so!

(2) She's not his mother.

(3) The origin of caf.

Poor Wedge is all alone….not for long! Bwaha!


	4. Wrong Number

A/N: I can't stand it any longer! I must introduce my first and favorite OC! Soooo, we're skipping about, um, half a year, maybe a little less, of Wedge's life so as to reach the introduction. Don't worry, you didn't miss anything important.

Disclaimer: NOT MINE. The OC, however, is! (huge grin).

By the way, Han's 'emo-ness' in the last chapter's beginning is because the poor guy wasn't expecting this at _all_. Good old Han. I'm pen-named after him, you know.

And the stuff at the end of chapter two will be explained someday, never fear.

Chapter 4: Wrong number

_Beep bepp! Beep bepp! Beeeeeeeee_--

"Hello?" Wedge grumbled into the comlink. He was grumbling because it was the middle of the night and the stupid device had awoken him with its beeping.

"Hey Luke!" It was Han, sounding excited.

"I'm not Luke," Wedge informed the man, "I'm Wedge. You must've gotten the wrong number. Luke's on Tatooine, anyway."

"Oh," Han continued, not deterred, "Well, guess what? I'm happy!"

_And you've also been chewing glitterstim._ Rogue Squadron's leader thought. "Well, congratulations," said Wedge sarcastically.

"We named her Jamie."

"Who?" Wedge was confused.

"My kriffing daughter, that's who!"

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh."

"We need a recorder," chuckled Han, "I would title this: _How Wedge Antilles Functions Without Caf_. Or, more correctly, _How Wedge Antilles Fails Horribly at Functioning Without Caf_."

"It's not the lack of caf," said Wedge irately. "In case you failed to notice, IT IS ONE A.M. IN THE MORNING AND MOST SENTIENT BEINGS WITH ANY SENSE ARE ASLEEP!"

"Excuse me for a moment, my ears are ringing….And THANK you Captain Obvious, I was aware that it is one a.m. in the morning because I'M TIRED TOO!"

"Well, then why are you calling me?"

"I thought you were Luke."

"We established that I'm not."

There was silence on the other end for a few moments. Wedge took this time to stretch and rub his eyes. It didn't look like he'd be getting back to bed for some time, not with an oxymoronically hyperactive and tired Han Solo on the line.

"And because of Jamie." Han was back.

"I see you didn't name her Bria," Wedge commented, remembering the name Han had mentioned at dinner ages ago.

"Acute observation, Sherlock Holmes."

"Leia wouldn't let you?"

"Pretty much," Han paused for a minute then added thoughtfully, "You know, I've got this strange urge to burst into manic laughter, just for fun."

"Look," said Wedge, "if I assume correctly that you are in some sort of medical facility, then you breaking into manic laughter might cause you to be isolated in a safe room."

"With cushioned walls? Been there, done that."

"Ummmmm….." Wedge could think of nothing else to say.

"Well, not with cushioned walls, per say, but they were white. Hmm, maybe I should rethink the manic laughter thing," Han mused, "The medical droids are already annoyed with me anyway."

"Why?" asked Wedge, feeling more awake now, "What did you do?"

"Nothing."

"Mm hm." Wedge wasn't buying it. "How many murder charges does Nawara have to get you out of now?"

"None. I didn't do anything!"

"Yeah, you did nothing like Chancellor Palpatine had pink robes."

"Well, um, you know what I did like Darth Vader is my, um, father-in-law!"

"But he is," Wedge pointed out.

"I know, I know! I realized that five seconds after I said it! But I'm telling you nothing! A herd of wild Banthas wouldn't drag it from me!" Han proclaimed.

"What about a crate of vipers and hypodermic needles?" Wedge asked innocently.

"Shut up," the ex-smuggler griped.

There was a pause while they simultaneously yawned.

"How did this start, again?" Wedge wondered.

"I was calling Luke," Han supplied.

"Why?"

"To tell him about Jamie."

"He probably already knows."

"How?"

"Da Force."

"Oh, yeah."

"Do you think she'll be force-strong?"

"Who?"

"Jimmie."

"JAMIE!"

"Sorry. Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Do you thing she'll be force-strong?"

"I don't know."

"So," said Wedge, "is her last name going to be Organa-Solo? Leia never took your name."

"No, just Solo. She looks like me." Wedge was too tired to make some sort of jab about Jamie being a poor disadvantaged child.

"Right. Well. Say 'hi' to Leia for me," said Wedge, wishing to end the conversation before it could get any stupider.

"Ok, I will. Ummm, is Luke's frequency 152.9?"

"Beats me," Wedge answered, "But it's not mine, so we're probably good."

"Ok. Bye." Han terminated the com call.

Wedge fell asleep almost immediately, not even bothering to shut the comlink off. The dark room was silent except for the quiet com static.

_In the back room of a mechanic's shop on a dusty Corellian road, something happened. _

_This something had occurred sparingly since the Black Day, the day the Sith took control of the galaxy, the day Republic became Empire, democracy became tyranny. _

_The day dreams died. _

_The day the Jedi were slaughtered._

An elegant weapon for a more civilized age.

_Civilization died when brave Force-users were gunned down by their own troops, when the clones descended upon the Temple and sabers were silenced forever, when a beautiful blue blade that had once saved the lives of millions was wielded to spill the blood of innocent children. _

Chubby little Rokk.

Farsighted Selina.

Red-haired Reno Pella.

The blue skinned Twi'lek Wi'lo.

_They were all dead. She had watched them die. She had survived, at a mere five years old, to flee the Temple, to live all these years._

_The dark haired woman smiled. _

_Something happened. _

_With a sizzling _snap-hiss_ a blue-green blade sprang into existence. The room smelt of lightening. _

_So many years ago she had abandoned the Temple in terror._

_Now the Empire that inspired that terror was deader than the evil beings that had created it._

_With another grim smile and a hard twinkle in her dark green eyes, the Corellian Jedi Knight shut off the blade and clipped it to her waist._

_She was going back. _

A/N: Do I detect any interest? Guess what! I've got 473 or so hits and 8 reviews! (ahem ahem) Soon you will the meet the Jedi woman….She's much more interesting than would seem……


	5. Jamie Solo

Chapter Five A/N: Wow. It's been…two years? grovels SORRY! I just got distracted, stopped caring, was obsessed with other things, yadda yadda… but anyway, here's chapter 5. I have no idea when chapter 6 will come, but I'll try to keep it in under two years!

Disclaimer: The planet Lusitania belongs to Orson Scott Card because I needed a random planet name to use just once in passing.

Chapter Five: Jamie Solo

A week or so later, Wedge headed down to the cafeteria early for breakfast, feeling quite chipper. This lasted while he bought his food, poured his extra-strong caf, and looked for a place to sit. Luke was nowhere in sight, nor were Tycho or Han. Deprived of his three preferred eating partners, Wedge found himself an empty table and sat down, humming contentedly, still chipper.

Then Wes Janson and Hobbie Klivian joined him and the whole chipperness thing went out the window and got eaten by a gigantic construction droid.

"So...?" sighed Wedge, knowing that whatever his odd pilots were up to had best be finished quickly.

"So…!" Wes rejoined, leaning forward on his elbows until his enormous grin was within an uncomfortable two inches of Wedge's face. The latter grimaced, trying not to laugh at the obnoxiousness of it all, and pushed Wes away, gagging in an over-exaggerated manner at the smell of Wes' aftershave.

Hobbie sighed, a depressed look adorning his pale face as usual. "What Wes is trying to say," he explained with an air of exasperation, "is that we have heard—"

Wes cut him off: "—that here has recently been an addition to the illustrious Organa-Solo family, and we have duly recalled a certain matter of monetary dispute…"

Wedge had a sudden flashback to Hoth: freezing cold, lots of Wyren's Reserve and some really dumb conversations which had led to really dumb bets. There had been one about whether Tycho would ever win a game of sabbacc, one on how long Wes could stand outside in his shorts, and, most importantly for now, one about whether Han and Leia would ever get together. Wedge groaned, recalling that while Wes (and a reluctant Hobbie) had said they would, he had said they wouldn't.

Wes grinned as he watched Wedge remember the fact that he owed the younger pilot 50 credits. Wes put out his hand, palm up, and grinned even wider. "Come on, pay up…they have a kid: obviously they've gotten together!"

Wedge rolled his eyes. "Fine," he complained, "on one condition: you tell me the kid's name and I pay up."

Wes looked confused, but Hobbie, his mouth twitching in an almost-smirk, said, "Jamie."

Wedge made a face and scribbled out an IOU on a scrap of paper and grudgingly shoved it into Wes' hand. The immature yet loveable pilot hopped off happily with his pessimistic wingman trailing behind.

Wedge looked at his breakfast and sighed, as it was now cold and gross. He was about to get up and throw it away when Luke wandered over. The two long time friends greeted each other with slaps on the back, then Wedge sat back down and Luke flopped into the seat next to him and stole one of his hash browns.

"So," asked Wedge, "how's your niece?"

Luke shrugged. "Alive. Which is more than I can say for Han and Leia…" he chuckled softly. "Actually, she's quite cute. You should meet her…hey, I know! Are you doing anything this morning?"

"Not really," admitted Wedge, immediately wishing he had invented some fictional task.

Luke leapt up, full of the boundless early morning energy that had made him famous (and hated) during his time as Commander of Rogue Squadron, and dragged the unfortunate General out the door, earning the two of them some weird looks.

"Are you sure Han and Leia won't mind?" Wedge panted as Luke punched the button for the turbolift. He was really hoping they would…

"Oh, they'll be fine with it!" said Luke brightly as they stepped into the lift. "Leia was just saying the other day that you should come over sometime, and Han probably won't mind; he likes you enough. Now if it were Wes or Hobbie…"

Wedge laughed slightly at Luke's hyperactive state. "If this is how you react to having a niece," he said, smiling, "remind me to hide far away if you ever have children."

"Who's having children?" The doors slid open to reveal the asker of this question: a short, green robed Jedi named Corran Horn.

"No one," said Luke, rolling his eyes.

"I did hear about Jamie," Corran noted, grinning as they entered the lift also. "Too bad Han was never a Rogue; I'm technically still alone, unless you count little what's-his-name, Gavin and Asyr's kid?" Of all the Rogues (not counting the aforementioned Gavin and Asyr), Corran was the only one to have a kid: Valin, a boy currently aged one year.

"I think her name is Shine; don't know why…oh, Luke!" Wedge turned to the Jedi as a thought occurred to him. "I asked Han, but he has no idea: do you think Jamie might be Force-strong?"

Luke shrugged. "I certainly hope so! But who knows? It seems to run in the family, so it would make sense, but there is one thing I learned on my travels to complete my training: Jedi, with the notable exception of Corran's grandfather, never had children. What my father did was highly abnormal and against the Jedi code, though I can't say I regret it!" He grinned, then continued, "Since all Jedi then came from regular, non-sensitive parents, I'd have to conclude that it isn't genes, but rather, the will of the Force."

Corran nodded, but Wedge frowned. "Exactly why did Neeja Halcyon get away with it?"

Luke and Corran grinned as they both answered, "Well, he was Corellian…"

Their laughter was interrupted by the "ding" of the door opening at Wedge and Luke's stop. After good-byes to Corran, they headed down the hall towards the Organa-Solo apartment.

Luke rang the bell while Wedge hung back, fervently wishing he could disappear or camouflage himself with the walls and remain unnoticed. He wasn't even sure what the problem was; why did he feel so awkward about nothing? Was it the early hour, that weird 1 a.m. conversation of a week hence, his weird, subliminal fear of babies…Wedge shook his head; it had to be a lack of caf because his brain was starting to sound like Wes Janson. Not a good thing.

Just as he was making this disturbing revelation, the apartment's door opened to reveal Leia. Her expression changed from tired and slightly annoyed to quite overjoyed. Grinning, she hugged her brother, saying cheerfully over his shoulder to Wedge, "I'm so glad it's you guys; Han was saying I shouldn't answer the door because it could be another annoying politician."

"What, have they been bugging you guys a lot?" Luke asked as she led them into the apartment.

Leia rolled her eyes. "You know Han," she said, "once is too many times. He hates all politicians."

The tall, lanky form of Han Solo appeared in the kitchen doorway. "That's not entirely true," he said, smirking. "I can think of at least one politician I like."

"You're sweet," said Leia, laughing.

Han affected surprise. "Sounds odd coming from you, but I'll tell Mon Mothma that you agree…" The others laughed as Leia punched him on the arm.

"Anyway," said Leia, "I supposed there's a reason you're here? Besides engaging in brilliant conversation with Han…"

As Han pretended anger at this slight, Wedge looked on, chuckling. His take on the Hoth Han and Leia bet had been rather stupid, he saw now. They were so good together, so happy…He wasn't reminded so much of Tycho and Winter—they tended to be more serious—but instead of his parents. He remembered watching them as a kid when they bantered and laughed and wondering why. No small child quite understands love; neither, Wedge reflected with a little smile, do most adults. An image of Iella floated unbidden to the surface of his mind. His parents would've loved to meet her and she them. As often happened when he reflected on things like this, he remembered his childhood vision of the ideal future: him, living on the Gus Treta station—probably owning and running it—with older versions of his parents, a wife, and a bunch of kids. No war, no worries, no death; maybe that was the life he could've had if it weren't for Loka Hask and his group of pirates. Sometimes Wedge thought that getting sucked into a wormhole was too good a death for that man…

"Hello? Wedge? Are you still among the living?" Luke asked, having noticed the Corellian's spaced-out look.

"Huh?" said Wedge, bemused. Leia and Luke were sitting on the couch and he had no memory of how they had gotten there. He shook his head and sat down in the empty chair, mentally dragging himself back to reality.

"So what've you been up to lately?" Luke asked his friend. Just as Wedge was getting into a description of the Rogue's last skirmish with pirates in the asteroid belt of Lusitania, Han came back into the room. He was carrying what Wedge correctly assumed to be Jamie as though terrified she would fall and break in half. Leia rolled her eyes. Han maturely stuck his tongue out at her and flopped into the chair next to Wedge.

"This," said Han, grinning, "is my kid."

"At least that's what we assume," put in Luke.

Han shot him a glare. "Keep that up and you might become 'good old Uncle Luke who mysteriously died when you where a baby,' kid," he growled. Luke snorted.

Wedge, ignoring this repartee, leaned over to get a better look at Jamie. She was awake, wide hazel eyes trailing around the room without landing on anything in particular. _Cute_ thought Wedge vaguely _you know, until she grows up and starts acting like her psychotic father…_


End file.
